Roomies
by Devils'Darling
Summary: Such a childish word to describe what they are to each other. But in a way, they each like it. It means they're bound to each other. Nolan and Emily's thoughts and reactions about sharing a house.
1. Chapter 1

One too many sleepless nights in his house, haunted by dreams of having the life choked out of him by the white-haired man had inspired two changes for Nolan: toughening up, and selling the house. The timing hadn't been a mistake either; waiting to sell until Emily blew back into town with all the force of a hurricane, was a strategy. He'd considered moving to his penthouse in the city, closer to NolCorp and surrounded by people, a way to combat his loneliness. But then there she was, devilish grin and revengenda and all. He'd considered what he would do when she came back. Obviously, he was committed to her now, her taking the risk to save his life last winter having cemented an already strong loyalty. He hadn't expected to have her appear in his boxing ring, but he was more than happy to show off his new talents, his boyish grin genuine when she'd said she was impressed. By the time they got to her house, partners again and back in the Hamptons, he hadn't been able to resist popping the question.

"How many guest rooms do you have?"

It had been accompanied by a cheeky grin; she was intelligent enough to understand the implication. He had expected the cold refusal, but still found himself wounded by it. Boxing or not, Nolan Ross_'s _heart was soft for _Amanda. _When she allowed him to stay, rushed and distracted as she was, he'd worried that it was temporary. That she would kick him out the instant she returned from her little errand. The fear had stopped the warmth of her acceptance from fully embracing him, leaving him tense until she came back. She'd largely ignored him as they moved about the house, getting dressed for Victoria's memorial, save for one moment when she'd barged into his room, already wearing her body-hugging red dress, her matching lips pursed in annoyance as she impatiently tapped her foot. Her eyes had swept across boxes upon boxes of clothing scattered to and fro, brows raised. One of their similarities was preference for order rather than chaos, so she didn't appreciate the mess. Being in unfamiliar surroundings had thrown him off, affecting his usually immaculate appearance. He'd plucked a pinstripe blazer from one of the boxes and tossed it on over his shirt, returning the smile that quirked up at the edges of her mouth as he slipped a bright red pocket square into the blazer, matching her dress.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it, letting go once they got to the car, but Nolan savored the two or three minutes of their physical connection. Serving as a wingman, as he'd promised, he got her drinks and played the charming sidekick, mercifully relieved from having to act in front of anybody but Ashley and Daniel, whose opinions he really couldn't give a damn about. Her smiles for the new power couple of the Hamptons sent chills down his spine, her resolve bleeding through, as obvious as her dress, to a pair of trained eyes. The last time he'd seen her after that was when she came home with news of Victoria's faked death and put him immediately to work. This too he cherished, her determination, but what he really remembered from that conversation was Jack outside the glass doors. His friend hadn't questioned his residence at Emily's, and she hadn't offered an explanation, not that Nolan needed one. A genuine smile from her at his presence told him everything.

…

Emily padded into the beach house, shaking sand off her body and beading the water from her hair, courtesy of her midnight swim. Her eyes rolled, more out of amusement than annoyance, when she saw a pair of childish red sneakers sitting on the edge of her coffee table. The sight brought about a warmth in her that came from knowing she wasn't going back to an empty home, filled with ghosts from her past or the son of her nemesis. Still, the warmth didn't find its way into her voice as she said,

"You better be house hunting." The sentence came out of her mouth before she could stop it, Nolan glancing up to smirk at her. But she could read the twinge of disappointment in his blue eyes, making her regret her rash statement as he muttered,

"Among other things." Her eyes followed him, taking in his casual demeanor, the plush robe and patterned pajama pants he wore, and the coffee mug wrapped in his hands. She smiled in spite of herself, his wry humor bringing out the girl in her she'd never been. She lowered herself onto the couch, watching the way Nolan mirrored her, each crossing their arms over their chests, her classic posture of defiance. As they settled in together, her mind began drifting; dreaming about what it would be like to have Nolan as a roommate for more than a week. She flashed back to earlier, when she'd rushed into the house in a fluster, reeling from her conversation with the supposedly-dead, resurrected Queen of the Hamptons. He'd been standing there in a lightly patterned shirt over her blender, the picture of domesticity. If she hadn't just seen Victoria, she might have laughed, but as always, business had taken front and center. When Jack had arrived, she'd been measured and careful with him, and it'd been Nolan who'd offered to leave to give them privacy. She hadn't truly wanted it; she needed her wingman there. But he'd gone, hard at work on her order, and she decided not to mention anything about their living situation. She imagined the next morning, waking up and coming downstairs to Nolan in her kitchen, waiting with a cup of coffee. She realized she didn't even know whether or not he liked to sleep in, or like her, was up at the crack of dawn. She liked to be up early; there was always something to get done, someone to talk to, and somewhere to be. That wouldn't end now, but, she realized, with Nolan living with her, she might find a few moments of peace and light among the storm she was brewing. At the very least, she'd lose the feeling of uneasiness in her stomach since she'd come back, finding her house covered in white sheets and feeling strangely empty, reminiscent of her first night returning to it, when she'd finally read her father's journals. She'd lived alone since and she was comfortable that way, without people taking up her breathing space unless it was necessary (Daniel). But leaning against the couch, the cold water of her hair freezing her whole body, she was glad for the accompaniment of Nolan, someone she could trust, someone for whom she wouldn't have to fix her hair and dust off her couch and pretend she was all right.

She turned to see him watching with a curious smirk, both of them waiting for an update from the computer. Victoria's voice pulled her out of her fantasies, her next sentence completely business-like to distract both of them from the thoughts she'd allowed herself to entertain. And like every time, Nolan responded, equally businesslike with a touch of his quirks. Also like every other time, he didn't let her tone fool him.

_He proves himself right about her desire to have him stay, try as she might to hide it, when she knocks on his bedroom door at 2 am. She didn't know whether it was the early hour or the close proximity of him, but something drew her to the room, glowing from the tiny blue light of his Nolpad. She'd gone to bed like every other night, but instead of laying down, she'd simply sat and stared at it: smoothed down covers, polished wood headboard, and the cold touch of unused sheets. The last time she'd slept there, she'd been alone, fresh off a break-up with Daniel. Her weakness had angered her; the need for companionship a constant nagging in the back of her mind. She doesn't want to feel that way tonight. She knocks twice, though once would have been enough. He's been expecting her._

_"Come on in, Ems."_

_"Are you decent?" She teases, entering with a light smile on her bare face and he smirks, wishing he heard more of the humor that he knew was buried under the hate._

_"Only for you, babe. If I was alone..." he stretches back lazily, the robe hanging off his body._

_"Nobody's stopping you from leaving." Her tone is only half-kidding; he can see the plea in her brown eyes. He won't disappoint her. With a shake-shrug of the shoulder he turns to the side and casually says,_

_"Nah, I think I'll stick around. You're a fun roommate, even if I risk getting myself killed by staying here."_

_"Isn't that what all the boxing was for?" Her smile is something rare; light, teasing, but most of all, real. He wishes he could capture it in a bottle and take a sip every time her expression becomes dark. He leans forward._

_"So, what's keeping you up?" The smile fades and he almost regrets the question, almost wants to go back to their banter, but he wants her to be honest with him. She wants to say Victoria or the white-haired man or a million other revenge-related details, but knows he would see right through her. She shrugs but doesn't respond._

_"What, did you accidentally give me the good pillow and want it back? Sorry babe, finder's keepers." He clutches his pillow in his arms and she laughs before an unprecedented expression covers her face. He wants to believe it's vulnerability._

_"I can't sleep." He waits for more. "I didn't want to be alone." He almost doesn't hear it, her voice is so quiet. They really are two peas in a pod._

_"Well I'm not a big fan of it myself." She looks up, the hair covering her face, reducing her age by a decade. He loops an arm around her shoulders and she doesn't shrug it off. "As for insomnia, the best thing is just to give in to it." He pulls her back onto the bed and she hesitates, resisting. He catches her fear and chuckles, flashing the Nolpad in her face. "Relax babe. Movie night." She really shouldn't. This is a really terrible idea. But...she glances out the door and towards her own bed, and a shudder runs through her. She can't sleep there tonight, not alone, not cold like she's been lately. So she lets him bring her head into his shoulder and she lets him keep his arm around her as the show begins. And if halfway through, her eyelids droop and she nestles even closer to his chest, and he rests his head on top of her own, well, she's sure he'll never let her forget it. Then again, she's not sure she wants him to._


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok so this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I watched 2x02, "Resurrection" and inspiration struck! Enjoy and please R&R, I really love reading your guys' feedback!**

She wakes up with a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't think, simply reacting with years worth of training, her hand lashing out at her attacker. It isn't until she hears the choked gasp that her eyes fly open. Nolan hovers above her, one hand clutching hers on his throat, the other pressed against the couch as he manages to wheeze out,

"Bad. Dream.." Emily pulls back her hand and sits up, releasing an exasperated sigh as he gasps for air, bracing himself against the couch. He sinks down next to her, warning her against the dangers of watching horror films with Victoria Grayson as she stretches, shaking off the soreness in her limbs from spending the night on the couch. Her hand still feels warm from his touch: comforting her, bringing her out of the dark abyss of tortured memories in her dreams. She shakes her head at the memory of two nights ago, sleeping in the guest room with him. Not alone. _Weak, Emily._ She berates. _As if you didn't just spend the last eight weeks with Takeda, regaining your skills. Focus. You can't get weak again. You won't._ Her resolve is unshakeable.

He tries and miserably fails to keep his eyes off her bared shoulders as she slips on a jacket and starts crafting her next scheme, alert as ever. His gaze follows the set line of her jaw, the determined crossing of her arms as she meets his eyes and without a trace of regret, declares that she'll be taking Charlotte away from Victoria. Tit for tat. He doesn't react, he's used to it by now: her cold indifference, the way she turns away at the mention of her sister, refuses to listen to his protests against throwing the young Grayson into the crossfire.

Hours later he's alone, shock growing on his face as he watches Victoria reject her daughter, as cold-hearted as she's ever been, more despicable than he's ever seen his blond Batgirl get. Nolan finds himself unable to resist the urge to narrate the poor queen's fate, when he's interrupted by Padma, his, as she smugly points out, _accounting analyst. _He's annoyed at her attitude and yet strangely fascinated by it. She wants a CFO? Well, he has the perfect one in mind. He shuts the lid of the laptop with a dazzling smile_, _deciding that maybe it's time to give Victoria a rest and tend to his baby (Nolcorp) for the afternoon.

By the time business is taken care of, he realizes he's been gone too long. Victoria works fast, and the plan she's masterminded this time is truly diabolical. He's just putting together the pieces of the puzzle when Emily storms in, clearly stressed and angry at being caught off guard. That said, he's sure she already has her counterattack, has already thought of something to deal with the latest curveball the queen has thrown their way. He's apologizing before she has a chance to yell at him, but the glare she throws his way snaps something inside the fragile billionaire. Before he notices, he's switched from apology to indignation, his annoyance at being treated as a convenient sidekick coming out.

"It's like you just expect me to do this for you." He's prepared for an argument, but his heart clenches as he awaits her response. Nolan's mind is reeling, already flashing back to their first fight, his pain at her betrayal of leaking his and Tyler's video to the filthy , snake-like eyes of Conrad Grayson. He's relieved and surprised when she sighs, her voice soft and understanding. In a way it makes him uneasy, this soft side of her he's uncovered. He wonders if her vulnerability the other night was more than just a fluke.

"You're right," she relents. It catches him off guard and he's a little afraid that it might have worked, that he might have actually won. "You need your own life, your own place." She holds his eyes for a moment, and she sees the shock in them, she sees the resignation too, like he's been expecting her to kick him out. He's been afraid ever since he got home and realized that his presence monitoring Victoria had been necessary. He figured Ems would throw him out due to annoyance at him, at his unavailability. But this...this freeing him from her revengenda, this was not what he expected. It's not what he wanted. Before he can protest, she's already starting towards the stairs, her voice having regained its hard edge.

"I don't care what you do tonight, but you can't stay here." It's that quick, her crushing of him. The stings hurts, so much so that she's halfway up before he finds his voice.

"I don't think you should be alone." He doesn't like to think about her in her father's house, the scared little girl whose world was torn apart. In his eyes, no matter how many lives she crushes or death glares she sends his way, he knows that broken child is still there.

She turns, her body angled away from him; the plea in his voice making her avert his gaze.

"I won't be." She has a scheme in the works, and more than comforting her now, curiosity drives him to want to stay, to see what her brilliant mind has cooked up. But she doesn't give him the chance and he knows by now not to expect it from her. He slips quietly past her to the guest bedroom to pack.

She watches him walk up and her breath tightens in her throat. She watches him slowly pack all of his things, leaving the clam cam and the laptop on the kitchen island as he slinks towards the door. His posture is defeated, his shoulders low; he is not the man who seemed so solid a presence in her home, refusing to let her wallow in the memories that were necessary to fuel her fire of vengeance. She won't let herself show remorse or pity for him. She won't let herself call his name and stop him, invite him to the kitchen for a drink and to continue their spying. She has to let him go. It wasn't a lie when she said she wouldn't be alone; what she has planned could endanger his life and she won't let that happen again. This is what she will tell him if he ever asks, which he won't, because it's a line he wishes didn't even exist. She won't tell him how she felt after their night together. She won't tell him about the anger and confusion and longing that arose when she was forced to turn away from him.

_Flashback: _

_She snuggled against him, comfortable, relishing the warmth he offered, caught somewhere between the oblivion of sleep and the alert state of consciousness. Her eyes fully opened, blinking rapidly; she was momentarily dazed before shooting straight up in bed as Nolan rolled over on his side, facing away from her. Her eyes followed the line of his spine underneath his thin t-shirt to the shape of his shoulders, almost mesmerized as a hand reached out to touch him. She snapped it back like a rubber band at the last second, shocked at herself. Quickly she scrambled out of the warm, queen sized bed and stumbled down the stairs, feeling almost like a drunk. She braced herself carefully against the stairwell, glancing back up to make sure she was alone. __**Alone. Like I should be.**__She was trained to be someone for whom companionship was a nuisance; her life had taught her that it only led to betrayal. Her body still radiated the warmth she must have absorbed from her sheets and from him. He'd offered comfort and she hoped she'd done the same for him. A part of her that was growing in strength told her to budge a little, to let Nolan fully in, as a partner and as a friend. Living together, they had developed a different sort of camaraderie, and having him there, as a friend to come home to, had been a feeling she wanted to keep. She shook her head again, but the physical movement did nothing to remove the very real, emotional thoughts pulsing through her mind, almost giving her a headache. Deciding coffee would be better, she walked into the kitchen, pausing as a white envelope greeted her. __**Miss Emily Thorne.**__ It spelled out in black script. It could have only come from one person and contained only one thing: a phone number. She tore it to bits and tossed it in the trash, the number already ingrained in her mind. Her phone was pressed to her ear in a second; the biting anger was already fighting its way to the surface. He answered on the first ring._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into my house?" _

_"Takeda wanted me to get a message to you." His smooth British voice once brought her comfort; now it made her grind her teeth._

_"What is it, Aiden?"_

_"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." She snorted._

_"Really? I didn't think Seinsei was that cliché." _

_"He was talking about Nolan." Her body stiffened. She didn't put it past her revenge schoolmate to spy on her home, but she or Nolan would have noticed that by now._

_"Are you watching me?"_

_"I don't have to. Takeda said never to lose sight of the true person you must get close to: your enemy, your end goal. Do not let emotions guide you-" _

_"-or I will fail. I'm aware."_

_"Then apply it, damn it! The only person you're hurting is yourself." _

_"I told you I don't need you to save me! Don't pretend like you have my best interests at heart."_

_"Always have, Amanda." She slammed the phone shut in anger, heat rising in her body. Emily knew Aiden was right, Takeda was right; they'd spend eight weeks drilling it into her again. She'd lost control, she'd gotten emotionally involved and it'd ended with Tyler dead, her fiance almost in prison for life, and the white-haired man using Nolan to draw her to him. She couldn't have let him die in that man's clutches. It was more than his technical brilliance, more than his loyalty, it was the man himself. And that was precisely the problem. Emily knew all this, she knew what had to be done. Little, broken Amanda was the one who hated it, the one who needed other people, the one who wanted to fight Emily on it. The woman glanced back up the stairs and made her way slowly to the guest bedroom, where Nolan still lay asleep. She stood in the doorway and whispered, "Goodbye, Nolan." She wouldn't leave __him as a partner, he was useful and she needed him in that way. But he needed to go from the house, let her become her icy self again. Anything else besides partners in crime...she put the thought from her mind when she went to sleep on the couch, alone._


End file.
